


Exploding Hands

by By_Noa



Series: This Will Hurt + Whumptober 2019 - [1]
Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Genre: Multi, OTP Feels, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-26 20:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/By_Noa/pseuds/By_Noa
Summary: 1. Shaky Hands + Explosion = Delirium: Kristen tries to make sense of a devastating event, while OA and Maggie rally around her. Friendship fic, but if you squint...This is my first fic for FBI.





	Exploding Hands

Kristen’s hands are shaky, and her breaths are shallow, as she wrecks her brain for the moment before she was left lying in the remnants of a bomb. The last thing she remembers hearing is the loud bang, and now all that’s left is the ringing in her ears. Trying to catch her bearings is like sliding in ice wearing socks, she just can’t get a foothold. Everything goes from moving too slowly, to moving too fast, and she’s paralyzed, blinking hard against the debris raining down rain, trying to see through the cloud of fog, turning people into moving shadows.

They’re all running and screaming, but she can barely hear them over the sharp whistling sound trapped in her eardrums, threatening to split her head in two.

She sees OA first, as she manages to sit up, and then Maggie as they appear through the murk and rush over to her, kneeling low. Their voices are muffled as though they’re trying to talk under water, and she struggles to make sense of what they’re saying, staring at their mouths to read the words on their lips, but still, meaning escapes her, and instead, she finds herself drifting beyond them, to the chaos.

OA grips her shoulders, and she’s grateful for the pinch. It’s the first thing she can feel, and it brings her back to her body, his touch reminding her, she’s alive, but now she feels the burn in her abdomen and left leg, and the pounding in her temples, too. Tasting blood on her tongue, every time she tries to swallow.

“Scola,” Kristen manages to get out, and Maggie’s face falls, and then she’s up and on the move.

Kristen’s heart sets off in a race, hammering behind her rib cage as tiny fragments of her memory slip through the haze, like the fact she and Scola had arrived at the high school first and found the explosive under a parked car outside the gates, set to blow after the bell. And how deactivating it, instantaneously triggered a second explosion. She should’ve known that would happen. She should’ve known there was a second bomb because there is always a second bomb. 

She should’ve waited. She should’ve evacuated or called it in, but everything was happening so fast, and the countdown was dropping, and Scola told her to do it, and now he was – where was he?

Kristen tries to move, but she learns quickly, how big a mistake it is when she leans onto her twisted wrist and her arm collapses under the weight she can no longer support. OA catches, and steadies her against him. He’s talking fast, yelling, and she feels the bass in his chest vibrating against her. He’s a little frantic, looking over his shoulder, and back at her, maybe looking for Maggie and Scola, but it isn’t helping her climbing anxiety.

And her mind keeps drifting down the winding road of events, replaying each moment, and those moments split into seconds, splintered and disordered as she tries to remember if anyone was in the new adjacent building that blew. 

OA’s voice finally cuts through the muffle, and it hurts because everything else floods in behind it. The bellowing sirens, the screaming; civilians and agents, her own heartbeat. The chaos is loud and clear as a bell, and she tries reaching up to stop it, but the stretch leaves the skin below her navel burning, and she folds.

“Kristen!” OA shouts, gripping her tight. “Look at me. Focus.”

“Scola,” she cries. “Is he?”

She can’t find the moment they got separated. If he was closer to the blast than she was, because if he was – oh god.

“Hey, hey, hey,” OA’s voice is softer now, and coaxing, as he dips his head low and searches for her eyes until he finds them. “Focus on me. “Maggie will find him.”

Kristen lifts her shaky, clammy hands, littered with tiny cuts, and it sets of a tremble of fear, deep in her bones as she clenches them tight, trying to get them to stop. Did she kill her partner? Did she kill hundreds of people – children, because she listened to her embryonic field instincts?

The quiver ripples through her body, her blood running cold, and it’s OA taking both her hands into his and squeezing them that settles her, interrupting her spiral. Tears sting at her eyes, but she holds on tight, until his hands squeezing her fingers together is all she can feel or think about.

“Keep looking at me.” OA presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist, and sighs. “You’re just in shock, that’s all it is. I need you to focus on my face, okay? Nothing else. Do you hear me, Kristen?” He swallows, and she sees the jump of his Adam’s apple, bobbing in his long-dusted throat, trying to focus on small details, but she can’t shake the feeling she did something awful. “_Kris_, nod if you understand me.”

She does, and it’s all she can manage because everything aches or burns, and everyone refuses to stop moving so fast, so she can catch up. Her body is refusing to follow her simplest commands; to breathe properly, to keep her eyes open and her head upright. All she has is OA bridging her to reality and pulling her away from the call to numbness.

“Just now,” OA’s breathes are even, he’s staying calm to keep her calm, and she hasn’t decided if it’s working. “You flinched. What was it?” He starts patting her down, and she should answer, but she’s focusing on his face like he told her to do, and multitasking feels beyond her capabilities now. So, she watches his face, focuses on every outline and curve so she doesn’t go adrift and get lost, so she can’t feel the burnt hairs on her arms, or the pulsating and bunched up muscle of her left calve. OA continues searching every inch of her, diligently, and then he pauses, glancing up at her “you have a hole in your jacket,” he mutters, before he works on the zip. “Okay,” he swallows after a longer pause. “We need to get you up,”

“OA?” she cries.

“It’s okay,” his hands come to steady her, and she sees blood, and breathing into her belly becomes a little harder to do, worse still, when she realizes she can’t look down because it feels like a metal rod is in her spine, forcing it straight. “Hey,” he calls again, and she realizes she lost his face when she finds it again. “I’m going to put your arm around my shoulder, okay? I need you to hold on tight.”

And he probably shouldn’t be moving her, but she trusts him, so she goes with him, doing her best to hold on by gripping the collar of his jacket as he lifts her up. 

“Maggie,” he huffs out, and the volume hits her square in the chest, as Maggie runs back into her line of sight, her clothes and hair dusted grey, and her eyes growing large at the sight of blood on OA’s fingertips. “She-,” his breath brushes against her head. “We gotta get her in an ambulance, now.”

“We can’t,” Maggie cries. “Another bomb just went off three blocks from here,” she explains, “we got a team evacuating now, but there’s a mile-long pile up. It’s absolute panic and chaos right now.”

“And Scola?” OA asks.

“We got him through in the ambulance just before the second blast. Thank God.” Maggie moves around them. “We’re taking her,” she shouts over her shoulder, and OA tries to follow, but every move he makes sends excruciating pain through her.

“OK, OK,” OA breathes out, and then he bends, cupping behind her legs and hauling her up against him. He quickly moves across the short distance to the Escalade and settles her in as Maggie holds the door open before climbing in with her. 

What her injuries are, OA doesn’t say, and the lack of elasticity in her body won’t allow her to find out, but beyond the nausea creeping in, and the light-headedness, she can’t stop thinking about the bomb exploding in her ears, throwing her back, and she can’t find Scola anywhere in her memories. Whether he was behind or in front of her, thrown back further or harder than her, hurt worse than she was because she moved instinctively. Did she make a – did she – did

Her mind fogs and she leans into OA without meaning to, her head lolling to the side. His bloody hands come up to cuddle her face. “Hey, stay awake,” he says. “Kristen,” he growls, “stay awake,” but slowly his voice begins to fade into the ether. “Maggie, come on, move it,” getting lost in the wreckage, screams, and fear she caused. 

Kristen gives into the heavy feeling pressing down on her and closes her eyes.

When Kristen opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is blue. The color of her room. And she’s flushed with guilt because the first thing she felt was embarrassment. She’s embarrassed that her injuries are bad enough for her lay in a bed and gown, in a blue room, instead of being out there with everyone else, hunting the bastard who planted a bomb outside a school.

She lifts her head and peers down, sighing with relief when she’s able to bend her neck. Reaching down slowly, she presses her fingers against the sore patch of skin on her abdomen, tight with stitches and covered with gauze. She winces, dropping back, and carefully flexes her sprained wrist, at least she can be relieved nothing is broken.

Falling back, she takes in her surroundings, noting the magazines dropped haphazardly in the tiny plastic chair pulled up to her bed. She frowns, and just then, OA walks in, the unreadable expression on his face falling when he sees her awake, releasing a breath of relief. But she can’t help worrying about the expression he walked in with, wondering if there is bad news down the hall and she caught him contemplating how he would tell her that she killed her partner of five minutes.

“Scola,” she swallows hard, her throat dry and cracked.

OA sighs, and moves to her bedside. “He’s okay,” reaching over, he gently squeezes her shoulder. “asking about you,” he smiles, finally, and the weight in her chest falls away. “He took some shrapnel in the leg, and he’s got a few cuts and bruises, but he’ll live. Maggie’s with him.” he taps the railing, and points to her wounded side. “How about you – you gonna live?”

Kristen shakes her head and swallows the sob of relief. “I should’ve known, right? That second bomb-,”

“Don’t,” OA chimes in, and pulls up the chair, dropping the magazines to the floor before sitting. “The second bomb was a diversion to draw us in, we had causalities but no fatalities,” his nose flares. “he knew targeting a school would get our attention, giving him enough time to close in on his real target, private business owner, Julius McSwayne. Apparently, he bought several properties so he could dump toxic waste on it – to avoid paying any waste facilities, I guess. It was right behind the local park. Our bomber’s daughter, along with thirteen other kids died from poisoning. Julius’ son goes to the school where you found the bomb.”

“So, you caught him?”

“He handed himself in.” OA says through clenched teeth. “He got his guy. McSwayne had four attorneys on his case. He was out on bail. The son of a bitch was actually trying to get off.” After a long pause, he takes a breath and looks up at her. “You did what any of us would’ve done. You focused on the job in front of you. If you hadn’t, those kids might have,”

Kristen feels the sting of tears. “OA, can I do this? Should I be-,”

“Hey,” OA reaches forward, wrapping his hand around the railing. “Listen to me. If you start down that road, it’s already over. Trust me.” He swallows. “Do you remember that Conserva Security case?” he asks, dropping his hand when she nods.

Kristen sniffles. “The armored truck robbery?”

He nods slowly, his eyes falling away momentarily. “Jason,” he breezes out. “I thought I could help him.” clenching his jaw, he finds her eyes again, and his have darkened. “I really wanted to – but, I couldn’t. We let him meet with Healy, and we were supposed to wait for backup, but SWAT was fifteen minutes out and I wanted to go in.” OA clears his throat. “Maggie said we should wait, but I didn’t listen. I thought there was no time, that we’d lose him, so she followed me in – and – we – got trapped.”

Kristen frowns. She recalls their write-up reports differing from his account now.

“The room was rigged with C4, and I got us trapped in there.” He laces his fingers together. “I was able to diffuse it and get us out, but it could’ve gone a lot differently.” Gulping, he continues, his jaw tight and his shoulders straight. “I was reckless and emotional, and if she hadn’t had my back with Dana, maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. But she did, and she took the shot when I couldn’t.” OA shifts to edge of the chair. “Maggie covered for me and I got another chance. Her trust in me. Her _faith_ in me has given me the room to follow my instincts, and grow – and sometimes I make mistakes, but it’s made me a better agent.”

Kristen nods.

“You didn’t do anything wrong this time,” OA says. “But you will make mistakes. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a damn good agent, Kristen.” He sighs. “You just have to give yourself the space to learn, and grow, and become better,” smiling now, he adds, “the biggest lesson I’ve learned on this job is, you have to trust yourself. Follow your gut. It won’t steer you wrong,” he winks. “much,”

Kristen presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth until the sob lodged in her throat subsides. “Thanks, OA.”

“You know,” he swallows, “you gave us a scare,” he breezes out, holding the railing tight enough to whiteout his knuckles, as he points to her abdomen. “had a piece of shrapnel sticking out of you, luckily, it was a shallow laceration,”

The look on his face gives her pause, she hadn’t thought about how scary it might have been for them because she was so busy worrying about Scola, and if she’d caused what happened. “Sorry,”  
“I’m so used to you being on the other end of the phone while Maggie ad me run into danger,” he pauses, “I never thought about how it feels to hear one of your friend’s under fire or-,” he breathes out long, and looks at her.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” she laughs, and it’s awkward because the moment feels charged now, but it isn’t sudden, it just feels, exposed, like a nerve she didn’t know was there until she touched it. They’d been spending so much more time together since she made it to field agent, with her learning from he and Maggie, and getting closer than before, it’s sobering to realize how much he cares, and comforting.

OA looks at her, all signs of humor gone, and her heart somersaults. “Seeing you hurt like that was not fun-,” he huffs through his nose, a tiny smile flickering across his grim expression.

“Hey,” Maggie strolls in, walking straight past OA and leans over the bed, pulling Kristen into an embrace that make her cry out. “Sorry,” she bares her teeth when she pulls back. “It’s good to see you awake.”

Kristen smiles. “I just want to get out of here, honestly.”

“I’m sure listening to OA talk will nurse you back to health.”

OA smirks. “You here all week with those jokes?” he teases, and Kristen and Maggie laugh.

“Good news is, ”Maggie starts. “Doc says you can go home tomorrow, they’re just keeping an eye on your concussion for the night.” She nudged Kristen in the shoulder with her fist. “Not bad after disengaging a bomb in front of a school, taking shrapnel to the stomach and pretending to listen to this one.” 

“Alright, alright,” OA holds his hands up. “I can take a hint,” he smiles. “You rest and get better so you can join us back out there,” he pauses, adding, “and if you ever need to talk about agent stuff or life stuff, I’m here too, not just Maggie.”

“Thank you.” Kristen says.

“Goodnight,” Maggie sings, shooing him out, and then settles in the chair beside her.

“Mags, thanks for-,”

“Hey,” Maggie leans forward. “We have each other’s backs, and that’s it. You’re my friend. You don’t have to thank me for that.” She smiles. “However, you can thank me in advance for all the drinks that’ll be on OA once you’re healed up and off pain meds.”

Kristen laughs.

“Karaoke at Platform.”

“I love that place,” Kristen cries.

“I know,” Maggie laughs. “The ballads are all yours.” And then she frowns, and Kristen realizes she’s been staring too long. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “It’s just – you’ve been happier lately.” And when Maggie’s gaze drops, she reaches across the railing for her hand. “It’s good – it’s a good thing,” she breathes out. “doesn’t mean you’re over Jason, just that you’re a little better.”

“You know,” Maggie balls her hands into her lap, her gaze still downcast. “It’s OA, and you – and,” she looks up. “Everything feels a little lighter, you know?” and Kristen nod. “By the way, I’d take OA up on his offer. He’s actually a good listener.” She snorts. “Surprisingly.”

Kristen giggles, shifting onto her right side towards Maggie, to relieve her left side of the burning stretch. Then she settles, and lets Maggie’s words sink in, and OA’s. Ever since she’s been out in the field, she’s felt closer to them, and it brings a smile to her face. “Yeah,” she sighs. “I think I will.”

Maggie settles in, drifting back into the uncomfortable chair, forcing her to sit up straight and she doesn’t even complain, or make a face, she just flaps a magazine open and starts reading to her. Kristen is grateful for the company, but more than, she’s grateful for her friend.

She lucked out when she joined the team. Maggie, OA, Jubal, Ian, and now Scola have become her extended family, and the safety of that thought, along with Maggie’s voice, lulls her to sleep.


End file.
